In the Aftermath
by Kali Blu
Summary: Slash. In the kingdom of Albion a once-hero is paying for the choices he made when he younger. With the help his weary lover and childhood friend, a young idealistic man by the name of Elliot, both men must fight not only their own respective demons but attempt to rule a kingdom on the brink of collapse.


Elliot remembered the first time he'd been struck dumb by the view from the large, elegant balcony overlooking the city of Bowerstone. He had stared, wide-eyed, at the city's narrow streets with its clusters of shops, homes and taverns, bustling with so much life, and found it nothing short of magnificent and awe-inspiring. The sight from the castle was even stunning to behold at night, like now, where the soft light from nearby homes and shops illuminated the Old Quarter in a dim, florescent glow.

Tonight, however, Elliot was in no mood to take in the scenery, and instead the auburn haired man stared down at the city with unseeing brown eyes.

He hadn't been given these living quarters by any accident. Elliot had noted some time ago, and with more than a little sardonic amusement, that the room was as far from Bowerstone Industrial as one could be. It faced _away_ from crooked cobblestone streets and the perpetual haze of smoke constantly spewed forth by factory buildings.

And yet, even at its worst, the city appeared so _normal_. Very little of the chaos and destruction afflicting the rest of kingdom showed in the relatively prosperous city, though that was once not the case. There were the occasional small, loosely-organised uprisings within the population of Bowerstone, strikes within the factories, and the like. Such was the nature of the industrial age. Elliot had to intervene on behalf of the townsfolk in cases like that.

Bowerstone was far from free of crime – had more than its fair share of thieves and murderers, but for the most part people could go about their daily lives safe in the knowledge they were safe from the conflict touching the rest of the kingdom. Perhaps a roof over their head and employment if they were lucky. The same could certainly not be said for the rest of Albion.

Not to mention the view was far from being soothing influence his lover had intended, especially when Elliot went into his fits of self-loathing. It made him feel guilty, in fact, that while factory workers slaved away in hot, sweaty conditions he was up here living in the lap of luxury. Never mind that he was virtually second in command to the king, in practice if not in name, and up to his eyeballs in paperwork most days. Never mind that he'd saved lives when the kings 'methods' to quell unrest proved to be just as ruthless as his brothers.

Elliot leaned backwards on the _balustrade_ and stared blindly up at the clear night sky. He used to be so noble and idealistic. He'd once had dreams of how he and his lover could fix the kingdom even as the world was crumbling down around their ears.

Build orphanages for children. Educate the poor. _Solve world hunger_.

Elliot felt his lip curl in disgust at his younger self. Once upon a time he'd been so sure in his righteousness. These days he wondered if all the suffering and pain had been worth it in the end. The blight had been stopped, true, but at what cost? Thousands had died already. Thousands more were dying of starvation and disease. He knew many once good men and women who would unflinchingly commit murder for a loaf of bread.

The worst part, though, was that there very little in the treasury to be of any help. The king knew that - had been the one to make the hard decisions in the end. Elliot didn't know what he would have done had he been in the king's shoes.

His grip tightened on the railing and he smiled in self-deprecation before swinging around to look upon the silent city once more. No, wait, he knew. A younger Elliot's idea of saving the kingdom would have included abolishing taxes altogether and building more orphanages. All idealistic solutions to problems that would, most likely, have sunk the kingdom even further into poverty.

'You look preoccupied, love. Something the matter?'

Damn. Elliot had been more preoccupied than usual, especially since he hadn't noticed the soft patter of footsteps or a familiar arm snake its way around his waist until the last second. Lips gently kissed his neck and despite his desolate mood Elliot shivered.

Moments like these reminded him of the bygone days of first kisses and stolen glances across a room. Reminded him why he still chose to fight for not only Albion, but for the person he loved above all. Why, oh why, could he just not walk away from it all?

There was no way he was saying that out loud though, so he said, 'thinking. That's all.'

'About?'

'Everything.'

'Uh-hum,' the feather-light kisses continued to trail up Elliot's neck, leaving goose bumps in its wake. 'Want to talk about it?'

'Somehow, I don't think you came up here for that,' Elliot responded wryly.

'True,' despite the playful answer Elliot found himself turned in the circle of the king's arms and looking into the dark eyes of his childhood friend. 'But even if your _body_ is, there's no point in trying to ravage you if your heart isn't really in it.'

'Ha. I thought the king just takes what he wants. What kind of ruler are you?'

'The considerate kind. Even the king isn't foolish enough to cross you when you're this down, Elliot. So… talk.'

'Hmm,' Elliot bit his lip, wondering how much he should reveal.

'Take your time.' The king said, gently palming away a stray lock of hair from Elliot's face and the remaining traces of teasing replaced by genuine concern.

That, right there, was the problem. It's what stopped him from abandoning both Albion and his own lover. Why was it that the person who continued to be responsible for so much suffering in the world was so often one who lifted him from his own darkness? The irony was not unlost on Elliot.

Elliot often wondered how his childhood friend was able to retain any kind of humanity at all. The king's appearance was a sad reminder of the darkness still residing within him - most likely would remain until the end of his days.

Evidently the gods of Albion had decreed that a hero's fate must be reflected in his face, and so it was with both the king and his father before him. The king's eyes were literally the windows to his soul. Eyes that used to be blue and expressive had gone dark - even took on a reddish hue when the king was feeling particularly malicious. Black, tribal tattoos, in languages indecipherable to Elliot, were scrawled all over his lover's body and covered most of his chest, arms and legs.

But he's not the looming figure of every child's nightmare right now, _far_ from it, if the man in the rumpled nightrobes and messy brown hair was any indication. No, the man Elliot spoke to was the same childhood friend who had climbed his balcony when he was ten and made a ridiculous proclamation from the rooftops that Elliot was going to be his queen when they both grew up. And right now his eyes weren't the usual harsh, soul-sucking black that Elliot was so familiar with. Instead they'd receded to a gentle gray that he found very pleasant indeed.

It was… nice.

'How do you do it?' Elliot asked suddenly, abruptly changing the subject.

The king's brows draw together in confusion, 'do what?'

'Stop yourself succumbing to the darkness?' He didn't mean to pry, never would have _dared _in normal circumstances, except Elliot was just so damn tired and it just slipped out before he could take it back. He closed his eyes at his own stupidity. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot. He had no fear for his own safety, but the last thing he needed was some poor innocent's blood on his hands because Elliot had provoked the king's temper.

He opened his eyes again expecting to encounter soul-sucking black orbs. Instead what meet his own are the unusual gray. Patient and understanding and oddly filled with… gentleness.

'Oh, Elliot.' The king cupped Elliot's face with both big hands, and he kissed his lover's forehead, 'the same way you grapple with your own darkness, I suppose. I fight against it.'

He let out a choking laugh. How could Elliots brooding depression compare to the literal evil that ate away at the king's soul? 'No need to try and make me feel better. My problems are _nothing_ compared to yours.'

'But like you, it sometimes gets the better of me. We share more in common than you think.'

Elliot let out a derisive snort, 'I'm not the one who struggles just keep a hold on my humanity.'

'Elliot, that's another matter entirely.' His lover, oddly, turned away from Elliot's face for a second. If Elliot didn't know better he could have sworn the king seemed… bashful. 'Besides which, haven't you figured it out yet?'

This time it was Elliot who gazed at his lover in bewilderment, 'what?'

For the first time in years the king's eyes flash to the playful blue Elliot had so loved during his childhood. But it's gone so quickly Elliot wondered if he'd imagined it, 'it's a very simple answer, love. Not hard to figure out at all. You really… really don't know?'

Elliot shrugged helplessly, 'no.'

The king's response was fierce, but not angry, 'silly Elliot. Always selfless to a fault. Did you never consider that _you are the reason I still have my humanity_?'

Authors Notes

Hi there. 'In the Aftermath' is a fanfic loosely inspired by fable 3 and set a few years after the canon-events when the hero makes 'evil' choices. There are changes, obliviously, and it's alternate universe (aka Elliot was only available to the female hero of Brightwall as a romance partner! No matter how much I wanted otherwise). Rather than having one large story-arc chapters will be episodic in nature (for the most part) - with the hero and Elliot concerning themselves with the day-to-day affairs of the kingdom (don't worry, it won't be as boring as it sounds!).

Hope you enjoyed it, and thanks for taking the time to read. :)


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